


Hold me even Tighter

by murmeltearding



Series: Hold me [2]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Killing, Love, Rape/Non-con Elements, True Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23837095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murmeltearding/pseuds/murmeltearding
Summary: Negan and Clara have made a new life for themselves after the Saviors community was destroyed.They love their new, boring life full of domestic bliss.Negan's past catches up with him though and things escalate.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Hold me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1717609
Comments: 8
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said I was done with Hold me tight a couple of times now, but it seems my brain isn't yet.  
> This came to me in a weird weird dream and it got stuck in my brain until I decided to write it all down. 
> 
> I posted this as a separate work because its really really graphic and probably triggering. Violence, Rape, Blood. This isn't for the soft hearted among you, so consider yourself warned!

“Negan… did you hear that?”

It was dark. It was quiet… almost. A sound from outside had woken me. Like someone tripping over something. Like a person tripping over something.

No, that couldn’t be. There was no one but us on our island of solitude.

“What?” Negan groaned next to me.

“That noise… I think there’s someone outside.”

“I’m sure there isn’t. Go back to sleep.” He wrapped his arms around me from the side and pulled me close.

I closed my eyes and tried going back to sleep… and opened them wide again. There, a noise again.

“Don’t you hear?” I whispered.

Negan didn’t answer. He had gone back to sleep.

I laboriously freed myself from his grasp and it felt as if he had eight arms and five legs, so tight was he holding on to me.

A window shattered.

I made it out of Negan’s grasp, and rolled over so forcefully, I tumbled off the bed.

+++

“What happened, are you okay?” Negan’s face appeared over me in the darkness.

I blinked and looked around, confused. “Am… am I awake?”

He laughed. “Yes. Come back to bed, you had a bad dream.” He sat up and half pulled me back into bed.

I groaned. My elbow was pounding. I must have hit the bedframe with my elbow on my way down or something.

Negan pulled me into his arms. “Jesus, what were you dreaming? Your heart is racing!”

“Just… there was someone on the island…” I whispered.

“You want me to go check?” he asked, his answer was instant, no hesitation, just to make sure I was feeling secure.

I shook my head. “It was just a bad dream.” No need to make him get up.

Negan pressed a kiss to the top of my head and I tried to relax against him.

His breathing quickly evened out again. I couldn’t fall back asleep though.

I carefully freed myself from his grasp and was glad to notice he had the normal amount of arms and legs. He rolled over in bed but didn’t wake up.

Kissing his temple I went out of the bedroom and softly closed the door behind me.

I got a glass of water from the pot on the stove where we kept our boiled water and sat down on the sofa, pulling my knees up.

We had found our cabin about three years ago. It had been a godsend after having lived on the run for two years.

It was on a small island in the middle of a lake. We had spotted it from the shore and in our desperation, had taken three days to build a raft so we could cross the water.

The previous inhabitant had hung himself on a tree outside. He was now buried under that same tree, his grave next to another one he must have dug before he’d hung himself. He hadn’t left a note, so I didn’t know for sure, but assumed his companion had died and he had taken his own life in his desperation. I shuddered at the thought and did my best pushing away the possibility of this happening to me.

The cabin itself had been in perfect shape. It had been built with neither electricity nor running water in mind, so it was just perfect for us.

A woodburning stove in the kitchen gave us warmth in the winter and allowed us to cook. Fruit trees all around the island that we were lovingly cultivating and nursing back to health gave us food, in addition to the overgrown vegetable beds. A family of half wild chickens lived somewhere on the island and every once in a while we were lucky enough to find an egg or two. The goat we had had to import from the main land. It was roaming freely but came to the house when it felt like being milked.

Negan had taken up fishing and we went to the main land sometimes to trade or hunt, always being careful to hide our boat so no one could take away our own little paradise.

Our life was so perfect, it felt surreal. For the first time in a long time I was happy. And Negan seemed happy too.

And yet… that dream left me uneasy.

We didn’t have any defenses. If anyone chose to build a raft or got a boat, they could just come to our island and take it away from us. I didn’t have any illusions. The good life made us both soft. Not that I had ever been anything but soft, but Negan too.

I drank my water and watched the sun rise and slowly illuminate the cabin. The living room and kitchen made up the main area, with no ceiling, so we looked up directly to the roof. It gave the whole room a wonderful airy sense and I loved the feeling it gave during hot summer days with all the windows open.

Summer was slowly but surely coming to an end though and rain became more and more frequent. I knew I had to get up on the roof one of these days and fix the tiles. It had started leaking in one small spot when it rained, and slowly but surely the leak was getting bigger. If we didn’t fix it soon, it would ruin our paradise.

Negan’s hip had never fully healed from a particularly hard beating years ago and he wasn’t flexible enough to get up on a ladder, let alone a roof, so the job would fall to me. I had no idea how to fix a roof and wasn’t particularly fond of heights so I had been putting it off, but the damp stain didn’t dry any more between rain showers. That was probably bad.

The bedroom and the small pantry next to the kitchen had a small attic above it that allowed us to store things we didn’t need at any given time. It could be reached via a ladder that went up next to the bedroom wall.

I took a heavy breath. The dream still haunted me. What if someone was to invade us?

I thought back of the invasion on the Sanctuary, so many years ago. The same thing could happen again.

We didn’t have any real weapons.

We had tools, yes. Knifes, axes, a hammer, a bow that Negan used to hunt, all of those could of course be used to fight off invaders, but I would feel so much safer knowing there was a gun in my nightstand.

With those thoughts in mind I got dressed and moved towards the front door. It didn’t even have a lock.

Taking a first, careful step outside, I stopped and listened carefully, waiting for the noise from my dream, of someone tripping.

Shaking my hand, I took a deep breath. It was quiet, as always. Only birds twittered and leaves rustled. The water of the lake before me glittered as a soft breeze ruffled the surface. Finding this island really had been like winning the lottery.

The sound from the soft waves slapping against the boat at the landing stage down by the water was the loudest disturbance. No one but us was here.

Spots, our goat, looked up at me as I passed her in her lean-to. She wasn’t used to her humans being out this early, but she came towards me nonetheless, hoping for a bite to eat.

I felt bad for forgetting to bring her anything, but she seemed content with the scratch between her ears I offered instead. “You’d let us know if anyone happens to come visit us, right?” I asked her.

She looked up at me, from her weird goat eyes obviously not giving a shit what I was saying, but simply wanting some more scratches.

I could probably milk her too, considering how swollen her udder looked.

Never having lived on a farm or even having touched a goat before we’d stumbled over her, keeping a goat had been a steep learning process for both of us. She was finding most of her food by herself, eating whatever she pleased, but milking her had been an entirely different thing. We had both known how to do it in theory, but practice had been an entirely different thing of course. After weeks and weeks of trying, I had finally found the knack of it and Spots trusted me to milk her.

If Negan so much as tried, she stepped away, leaving nothing but a couple of black droppings for him.

So, the decision had been made.

I got our bucket and, after checking it was sufficiently clean, went to milk her.

Negan found me with her half an hour later.

“Were you talking to Spots earlier?” he asked, sleepily rubbing his eyes.

“We don’t have a guard dog, so she’s our best bet,” I muttered.

“Still thinking about that dream, eh?”

I shrugged. “It felt so… I don’t know… real in a way!”

Negan put his arm around me and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “I will kill whoever tries to hurt you,” he promised.

“I know…”

+++

A couple of days later, I had finally got myself to climb up on the roof and check out the leak. I had found a couple of slabs of slate that I figured would work well enough for fixing the shingles. Negan had made sure to hold the ladder for me as I climbed up and waited for me on the ground, to hand me the tools I’d need.

Being up this high gave me a new perspective of our island.

It was bigger than I had thought it was. The conifers to the north side kept our cottage mostly hidden from the closest shore. From the south we were completely out in the open, but that shore was far enough away to let us feel safe too. And even if it wasn’t, there was no use worrying about it.

I froze when I looked eastwards. Something was swimming on the water. Something that suspiciously looked like a boat.

“Negan?” I called, carefully moving towards the edge of the roof.

“What do you need?”

“I just… do you see that over there?” I pointed out at the water.

Negan squinted and put his hand over his brow, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“What is it?” I continued.

“Get down,” he said, taking a grip of the ladder. “Hurry.”

“Is it a boat?” I moved towards the ladder as fast as I dared.

“Yes.”

“What… what are we going to do?” He caught me as I jumped down the last couple of rungs.

“Go inside, up in the attic. Don’t make a sound,” he ordered, putting the ladder down on the ground and placing it next to the house before hurrying off towards the entrance himself.

“What? No!” I shook my head and run after him. I wouldn’t let him face the strangers alone. We didn’t even know whether they were friend or foe.

“Please go inside the house. You’ll be safe there,” Negan slowly said. He hated when I disobeyed him and I knew it, but I didn’t care.

“No.” I simply said and gripped my hammer tighter as I followed him to the front of our cottage.

Negan deeply exhaled but didn’t try to get me inside again. I didn’t often disobey him, but he knew that on the few occasions I made my mind up about something, it was no use fighting with me. He got his bow and arrows and leaned Lucille 2.0 against the wall behind him.

The boat had moved close enough to make out four people on it. I wasn’t entirely sure, but they all looked male to me. That wasn’t a good sign. Friendly people usually travelled in mixed groups, men, women, kids… those looked too uniform. Maybe I should have gone inside before they’d seen me.

No. I shook my head and stepped closer to Negan and gripped his hand.

We watched the boat approach and moved to receive them down on the dock.

The moment they got close enough, I found a rifle pointed at us, and another one. One of the men, because now I was sure it was a strictly male group, rowed while the fourth stood at the very front of the boat.

“What do you want?” Negan called and I noticed his voice sounded a lot like it had used to sound when we’d first met.

I remained half a step behind him, letting him take the lead. He had so much more experience in things like this than I had, but I was there to follow him into battle if he needed me to.

“Put down your fucking weapon,” the guy at the front of the boat shouted. I wondered if he was aware he looked like a pirate captain preparing for going on land.

“How about you go first!” Negan countered, putting an arrow to his bow and slowly pulling back the string.

“Says the guy with the toy pointed at us,” the captain shouted back, laughing.

They were about three boat lengths away still, but moved fast.

“You want to find out what fun I have playing with it?” Negan countered.

I looked the guys over and felt bile rise up when I recognized one of the faces. It had a very familiar mark on the right side. Negan seemed to recognize it as well as I noticed his shoulders tense up. Zack.

Zack was one of the gunmen. Of course. That was just my luck.

Crazy Zack with a gun against Negan and me with fucking tools.

Their boat touched our dock and Negan took a step forward, blocking them from getting on land.

“You sure you want to do that, old man?” the captain asked and both rifles moved to point at Negan.

The captain himself had something that looked like a sawed off shotgun strapped to his thigh. No sword though.

Didn’t matter. We were still fucked.

“What do you want?” Negan called again, standing his ground.

“We want half of your shit,” the captain said and it seemed to do something to Negan, because he took a step back. “Not as nice being on the receiving end of that… boss, huh?”

Negan snorted. “I always knew you’d stab me in the back one day.”

“Yea, I always planned to… those fuckers beat me to it, back then… Bummer, huh?” He took the step onto the dock and looked around. “Nice hiding spot you found… and even with your own little whore. I’d have expected you’d take a prettier one, but in this world, one pussy is as good as another, am I right?”

The others laughed at his joke and I felt us sink deeper and deeper into the shitpile as they stepped off their boat one after another.

Negan let his bow sink and stepped backwards, forcing me to do the same. We had three rifles trained on us. What else were we supposed to do?

Up close I recognized the captain as well, but couldn’t place a name to his face for the life of me. I involuntarily touched the three scars on my arm where Zack had attacked me years earlier. He was my main focus. The others were probably equally dangerous, but my scared subconscious didn’t give a shit about them.

I reached the end of the dock and stepped on solid ground. Negan followed suit and the captain sped up, pushing past Negan and grabbing me by the arm. He plucked my hammer from my hand before I even realized what he was doing and tossed it out of reach. The others trained their rifles at Negan and Zack took his bow and arrows, quickly inspecting the, before he tossed it to the side as well as the arrows.

“Take your dirty fingers off of her, Logan. You know I fucking mean it.”

“But it’s been such a long time since I touched a woman… they’re getting pretty rare out there, did you know? And here you are, claiming one all for yourself,” Logan said, pulling me closer, holding me against him with his second arm around my chest. “But you’ve always been a greedy bastard with your women… I almost forgot how good they smell.” He took a deep inhale from my hair.

I leaned away from him as far as I could, which wasn’t very far at all.

“Fear makes it even better,” he added, jerking me against him again and moving down to my neck before inhaling once again.

Negan’s face went hard. His old mask still fit him. No emotions shone through it. “Is that why you’re here? To harass my woman? I always knew you were fucking desperate, but this?”

“I’d stop talking if I were you,” Logan said, letting his second hand slide downwards.

A low whimper escaped my mouth. This sensation, this feeling felt much too familiar, even after so many years. I was weak. He was strong.

“Sounds like she likes it,” Logan said and his men laughed again.

Negan took a step towards us and Logan gestured to his men. Zack stepped forward and punched Negan in the stomach, making him topple over.

“Alright, Negan,” Logan said, bending down to look him in the face. He kept hold of my arm and forced me to move with him. “If you want to play it like that, I can simply kill her now. Would take a lot of fun out of this whole thing, but…” he got back up and shrugged.

“Already threatening to fucking kill her when you still haven’t told me why. the fuck. you’re here,” Negan said, pulling himself up again, his voice sounding breathless. “Class up your ass.”

“You’re right,” Logan said. “Let’s all take one step backwards. Especially you, pretty.” He jerked me against him again and pressed his crotch to my lower back, taking a moment to rub up and down against me and heavily breathe into my ear before he focused back on Negan. “We’re here for two simple reasons. First: We want. half. your shit! Easy enough, right? And second… and I have to admit I like this one much, much better: revenge. Revenge for the way you fucking treated us back then, revenge for what you did to Zack, simple, cold revenge. You like those reasons?”

I swallowed. Negan’s eyes met mine for just a second and I didn’t like what I saw there. He was scared. His being scared wasn’t a good sign. His being scared meant he wasn’t in control of the situation. He didn’t know what to do.

I didn’t know what to do either. Except for… No. I couldn’t even bear the thought. If I offered Logan to go inside with him, it would leave me with one enemy and Negan with three. Could he take three armed guys? No. How should he?

And I couldn’t figure out what I would do with Logan. If I got my hands on a weapon, I would kill him, but he probably wouldn’t be stupid enough to let me into the kitchen.

And if I didn’t get my hands on a knife, he would…

“Was that the only thing you did for the last five years?” Negan said, pulling me back to the real life. “Plot your fucking revenge against me? Is that how much you hate me? Because if so,” he slowly shook his head, pulling down the corners of his mouth, “that’s fucking pathetic.”

“And I’m not even the one that hates you most, imagine that, old man!” Logan said, not letting Negan talk him down.

As if he had waited for his cue, Zack took a step towards Negan smiled a lopsided smile at him. The scar tissue on the left side of his face wouldn’t quite move with the right side.

I must have grimaced, because Zack took a step towards me, pointing his rifle straight at my face. “And you… you fucking bitch did this to me!”

I swallowed. Looking down the muzzle of a gun was even more unpleasant than I remembered.

“I…” I didn’t know what to say. Telling him I hadn’t forced him to hurt me probably wouldn’t do us any good, so I remained quiet.

Zack took another step towards me and I was practically sandwiched between him and Logan. I turned my face to the side and closed my eyes. I couldn’t bear looking at the scar tissue. It looked too painful.

“Fucking look at me, bitch!” Zack said, grabbing my face. “This is your work!”

“Don’t hurt her,” Logan and Negan said at the same time. “Not yet,” Logan added, chuckling dirtily as Zack took his hand away. “I want her pretty when I have her under me. Is she a screamer?” He focused on Negan over Zack’s shoulder. “No don’t tell me, I want to find out myself!” He laughed.

I sniffled. I couldn’t take this again. Everything went blurry as my eyes filled with tears. I hastily blinked them away as I reached up to wipe my nose with my hand.

“Don’t move… what was your name again? I like to know my women’s names. Makes things more intimate.”

“Clara…” I whispered.

“What was that? Speak up!”

“Clara,” I repeated, louder this time, my eyes focused on Negan alone.

The way his brows tilted just the tiniest bit made me want to tear up even more. He was as scared as I was.

“Clara,” Logan repeated, slowly, drawing out my name. It made me feel dirty. “Clara,” he said again and his hand slid over my tummy again, downwards.

Zack stepped to the side so Negan could see exactly what Logan did as he bent forward and licked over my ear at the same time as he let his fingers slide into my pants. “Clara,” he whispered into my ear, his breath cold where he had licked me. I shuddered.

Negan tried stepping forward again, but another punch to the stomach from the bigger of the two silent goons stopped him and almost brought him to his knees.

I cried out as much with the sight of seeing Negan hurt as with the feeling of unwanted invasion as Logan pushed his finger into me. “Please don’t,” I whimpered, squeezing my thighs together.

“Awww, now isn’t that just so cute? Please don’t, she says. I don’t want to hear you beg, Clara. I want to hear Negan beg.” He pushed into me again and I jerked, shaking all over.

The goon stepped forward again, punching the still panting Negan once more and brought him down to his knees. He took all of a second to catch his breath and start begging for me. “Let her go, Logan. Please,” he panted. “Leave her out of this. She hasn’t done anything to you.”

I wanted to reach for Negan but Logan’s grip around my chest and lower down tightened.

“He really knows how to beg,” Logan said. “Who’d have thought! Did you know?” he asked me. “I bet you make him beg to fuck you!” He laughed at his own joke and his men joined in. “Look at that old geezer! He must be twice your age! Wouldn’t you rather have one of us? We’re in our prime! He’s long past that!”

I didn’t answer.

“I asked you a fucking question, bitch!” He pushed his fingers into me so brusquely it made me cry out.

“I…” I whimpered, “I don’t want either of you…”

“What? Now you hurt my feelings, Clara.” He pulled his fingers out and let go of me completely. I took a step towards Negan, and another when no one stopped me. My legs didn’t entirely do as I wanted and I half fell on Negan. He put his arms around me and I buried my face against his chest. I heard his heart race. Or was it my own?

“Damn, she smells good though…” Logan muttered and I knew he had his fingers up in his face. “Alright, I made up my mind, Clara. I don’t give a shit whether or not you fucking want to! Too bad for you!”

Footsteps came close again and I felt him grab a handful of my hair. “Be a good hostess and show me to the bedroom, will you,” he said, forcing me to my feet.

I cried out as I felt Negan let go of me. One of the nameless rifle guys and Zack remained with him, the other followed Logan as he pulled me after him, backwards. I stumbled over the familiar ground.

“Please don’t make me!” I pleaded, not bothering to hold back my tears. “Please, please don’t!”

I kept stumbling over my own feet as he pulled me up the stairs onto our porch and in through the door. The familiar smell of our home felt like a cruel joke. This was my safe spot and it was about to be mercilessly destroyed.

“Please,” I tried again, but Logan didn’t even slow down. The rifle guy followed after us. He didn’t seem to give a shit either.

Logan went straight to the bedroom and pushed me inside, closing the door behind him. Rifle guy remained outside.

I was ungently pushed onto the bed, face first and felt greedy hands pull down my pants and panties, not bothering with unbuttoning. He tossed them in the corner before he turned me around and ripped open my shirt, leaving me in my bra.

The moment he let go of me to unbutton his own pants, I moved backwards on the bed until I hit the headboard.

“Stay right the fuck where you are,” Logan said, pulling his dick out. I stared at it, then back up at his face.

“Please don’t make me,” I tried once more.

“Shut up and turn around!” he barked.

I lost all feeling in my face and fingers as I heard myself say “No,” loud and clear.

“What?”

“No! If you think I will make this easy on you, well fuck you!” I wasn’t sure where this came from or if I liked it. But I had chosen a path and I’d stay on it.

I pulled my knees up against me and straightened my back. I would fight until death, either his or mine. I wouldn’t let him rape me! That was past Clara. Present Clara was a fighter!

He put his dick back into his pants, nodding to himself as he came around the bed with slow, measured steps. “I thought we could do this the easy way, but…” he shrugged, “have it your way!”

Practically jumping at me, he grabbed my ankle and pulled me down towards him. He seemed to have a lot of practice.

And I had a lot of dislike against being raped! I kicked his face with my free foot, as hard as I could.

He roared with pain and blood splattered from his mouth or nose, but he didn’t let go of my ankle. Even worse, he grabbed the second one and pulled me towards him again, ignoring the blood dripping down his chin.

“Do this again and your beloved Negan out there is dead.”

Shit. I hadn’t thought about that. What I did directly reflected on Negan. I froze.

“Everything alright, boss?” the door cracked open and rifle guy half stepped in.

“Yes! Leave us the fuck alone, fucking pervert! And don’t you dare open this door again!”

When Logan focused back on me, his eyes were filled with pure hatred. And I would get to feel this hatred. Fuck.

He put one hand on my knee, then the other and continued climbing upwards in that manner, never letting me go. He grabbed both my wrists and forced them into his left hand before pulling my arms up over my head.

His face hovered just above mine, his eyes focused on me. His lips formed into a cruel smile and showed off a bloody set of teeth.

“Now turn. the fuck. around and stop. fucking. struggling!” He said, pronouncing every word slowly as if he’d talk to a stupid person.

I kept staring at him, motionlessly.

He slapped my face so hard I saw nothing but stars for a second. “Fucking move or Negan dies!”

I slowly started moving. What else was there to do? Negan had two rifles trained on him and all it would take was one call from Logan.

“Will you be good if I let go of your hands?” he asked. “Think of that fucker out there!”

I wanted to tell him if he’d like to find out, but felt myself nod.

Logan carefully let go of my wrists and I turned around so my back faced him. I heard him fumble with his pants and then he roughly gripped my hips and pulled my ass up.

No. I couldn’t just let him…

He pushed inside me so hard I cried out.

Tears shot into my eyes and I felt myself go to the bad place. The place I had created when Uncle Felix had started raping me. My mind went numb.

No!

I couldn’t just let this happen!

Even once Logan was done, they still wouldn’t let us go! This was only the beginning!

I balled my fists and forced myself to stop crying, which sounds a lot easier than it was, considering he was pounding into me so hard, I threatened to slide off the bed.

Well… I could do just that. It would probably make him mad, but it would give me precious seconds to form a plan.

It didn’t take a lot of effort to allow my body to go limp. It was almost as if it wanted to. Being limp and being numb went hand in hand. After two more thrusts my limp elbows and arms slid off the edge of the bed. Logan almost toppled over me with my sudden lack of resistance and I slid off the bed even farther with the momentum.

My head bumped against the nightstand on the way down and for the second time in two minutes I saw stars.

My lower half was still up on the bed and that seemed to be enough for Logan. He probably thought I had knocked myself out.

Not hesitating for more than a couple of seconds, he gripped my hips again, hard, and forced my legs apart with his knees.

I couldn’t believe this was happening! Tears started forming again, silent ones, tears of pain, tears of being invaded, tears of generations of women who had had to endure this. I had to focus on something else or I would go to the bad place again.

There was something lying in the dust under the bed. Something solid.

It took me a few seconds to recognize what it was, but once I recognized the small axe, everything seemed to turn around. I reached under the bed, stretching my arms as far as I could while Logan violated me from behind.

I didn’t care about what he did anymore. I knew I would care again later, but in this moment, I didn’t. Reaching the axe was much more important. The second I reached it, I would kill him. I would kill that guy with the rifle outside and I would save Negan. They had chosen the wrong people to fuck with!

I stretched my arms as far as I could, but they weren’t long enough. And Logan kept pulling me back up.

Was he aware I was conscious? Or did he still think I had knocked myself out? Maybe that would have been better. My head hurt like a bitch.

I started shaking again at the thought. It was so… unbelievable this would happen to me again!

Again!

How did I deserve this?

No! I didn’t deserve this! No one did!

In one last effort I stretched my arm and my fingers brushed over the wooden handle.

Just…

a little…

more…

Logan pulled me back up again and the axe seemed out of reach for good.

No! I gripped the bedframe and actively pulled downwards. I didn’t care if he noticed I was conscious. The second I’d have that weapon…

My fingers brushed over the handle and this time I managed to grip it, just a second before Logan pulled me up again.

I let him pull me and even pushed with my free arm so I’d get up on the bed far enough.

“Oh yea, you fucking like that, don’t you!” he called out.

His words reminded me once more this was really happening and I had to close my eyes for a second. All of this was too much. I couldn’t…

I gritted my teeth.

I could and I would!

Who did he think he was, coming here and…

I pushed my ass upwards and brought him off balance. Holding on to the axe, I turned around and lifted the axe over my head.

My arms shook so hard, I was worried I’d drop my weapon. If I did, everything was over. Neither Negan nor I would survive the day.

“What the fuck!” Logan called out, realizing what was happening. His erection still stood like a flag post.

I brought the axe down on him with all the force I could muster, not aiming, just chopping, and hit his chest.

Blood welled out through his shirt and onto the bed as I pulled my weapon up again and brought it down a second time, this time hitting his throat.

Fuck this was a lot of blood! It sprayed up at me and covered literally everything in the room. Our beautiful bed, the ceiling, the walls, my face. I gagged.

Logan jerked a couple of times. His mouth opened and shut like a fish on land, but no words came out. He was bleeding out. Fast.

The door opened and rifle guy stuck his head in again, just to be hit with a spray of blood as I pulled out my hatchet and moved towards him with a battlecry that made my own blood curdle.

I chopped down and hit him straight between the eyes, splitting his skull in half.

Rifle guy’s eyes crossed as he looked at the axe sticking in his forehead.

I tried pulling it back out again but it was stuck. All my pulling achieved was to drag rifle guy into the bedroom and make him topple over on top of me, on the bed, blood trickling down the blade and onto my chest, while the axe handle poked me in the stomach, where I was still holding on to it.

My hands were trapped between rifle guy and me. And he was a strong guy, to say it nicely. Fleshy arms, thick stomach… I was sandwiched between him and Logan, both fighting and losing the battle for their life, soaking me with their blood.

Outside, a gunshot sounded.

I froze. Negan!

Men screaming and another gunshot.

Fuck!

If they found me in here like this…

I struggled harder. I had to hide!

Letting go of the axe and pushing my legs and arms and mind against the fat guy on top of me, I somehow managed to push him off. He dropped to the ground and I was free.

Looking around for a place to hide, frantically, I settled for the simplest one: behind the bedroom door.

Grabbing the shotgun from Logan’s belt, I moved behind the door and pulled it open all the way, so it would hide me. The floor was slippery with blood and I almost slid against the wall before I sat down on the cold, hard floor, hurting, scared, full of adrenaline, half naked, blood and… other bodily fluids I didn’t want to think about drying on my skin.

My hands trembled so hard, I feared I would pull the trigger by accident if I wasn’t careful, so I put the shotgun to the side.

A sound I hadn’t hoped to ever hear again made me look up. Logan was turning. I hadn’t destroyed his brain. Of course he was turning.

I closed my eyes and waited, silently crying, shaking, listening to every tiny sound the house made, waiting, hoping Logan wouldn’t hear me, hoping not to hear footsteps.

A wet, squelching sound from the bed made me push against the wall even harder, hoping it would let me pass through. Walker Logan was munching on his former friend.

And as if that wasn’t enough… footsteps… coming through the living room.

Shit.

I would die today. The only question was if a Walker or a gun would be the one to do it.

I didn’t want to know. Pressing my hands over my ears, I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to see or hear anything. I just wanted it to be over.

The sound of something hard being smacked against something fleshy made me startle despite my hands over my ears. I pulled down my face between my knees and chest and my hands up on my neck.

It would be over in a second now.

Something touched my right wrist and pulled away my hand. I whimpered and pressed my eyes closed. I didn’t want to know who would be the one to…

“Clara,” someone said.

Wait. “Negan?” I pressed out, slowly looking up. How wasn’t he dead? Hadn’t they shot him?

“Are you alright?” he said, reaching for my arms so he could pull me to my feet.

“You’re alive!” I whispered, letting him pull me up on shaky legs.

“Yes,” he answered. “You saved my ass out there.”

I wanted to ask him how I could possibly have saved his ass, but my mouth didn’t want to do the thing as he helped me step over the blood on the ground and pulled me out of the bedroom. He was alive. I was alive. Holy fucking shit.


	2. And they lived happily ever after

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clara deals with everything that has happened in a way Negan doesn't like very much, but deal she does.   
> And they get the happy end they deserve after all!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took me so long to post... I had to do some studying for an important interview and I couldn't get the ending right but now I think it's finished.   
> Also, I wrote kind of an afterword, or a mini extra chapter, if you want to call it that, but it's rather short and doesn't really lead anywhere... so I'll just post it in the end notes.  
> Enjoy!

“You alright?” Negan asked again, pulling me against him. Blood flaked off of me and stuck to his skin and shirt, adding to the blood that was already on it.

Was I alright? No… I was so far from alright, I couldn’t put it into words. I shook my head and felt my knees give out under me.

Negan caught me and put his arms under my shoulders and knees, lifting me up, seemingly effortless.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. We’ll deal with this shit later,” he whispered, carrying me outside.

I wanted to hold on to him but my whole body was shaking. I wanted to talk but my teeth only chattered. All I could do was whimper against him and cry.

There was a sunny spot on the edge of a lake in a little bay, with a natural rock formation that shielded it from view a bit. It was our makeshift bathroom. Negan took me there and waded into the water with me, him fully clothed, me not so much.

“Let… let me down,” I croaked and he carefully put me onto my own two feet. The water went up to my knees. It was cold but clean. I wanted to be clean. I wanted to wash off everything that had just happened.

Steadying myself against Negan, I waded farther into the water until it went up to my hips.

I bent over and washed as quickly and thoroughly as I could. The water was so cold, it made breathing hard, but I decided I preferred the familiar feeling of cold to the soreness between my legs. Cold was familiar, I could work with that. The soreness… I wanted nothing but to forget about it.

I dove under for just a second to get the blood out of my hair and off my face.

My teeth chattered audibly when I came back up.

“Come here,” Negan said and reached for me.

He rubbed a spot on my face and made me turn around to help me with my hair as he so often did these days.

I stood completely still, hugging myself, and let him wash the blood off of me. His hands were incredibly gentle on my hair and skin. He radiated warmth from behind me and, looking out over the undisturbed lake, I could almost imagine none of this had happened… almost…

Without even noticing I started scratching my arm.

Negan did notice. “Stop scratching,” he muttered, turning me around so I faced him.

He shrugged off his shirt and wrapped it around my shoulders before pulling me close to him again, giving me the illusion of safety, if only for the moment.

“I’m so sorry I let this happen to you,” he whispered. “I promised I’d keep you safe and I failed you.”

I sniffled. “It wasn’t your fault.” It was no one’s fault. I felt like it was mine, but a lot of therapy years ago had taught me the one thing that it was never my fault. It was only Logan’s fault. And he was dead. Like he deserved.

We waded out of the water, Negan behind me, his hands on my waist, and I pulled his shirt closer around me.

I hadn’t noticed the two bodies in front of the house when he had carried me outside. But there they were. Heads mashed in, brainmatter everywhere.

I forced myself to look away.

“How did you…” I muttered, motioning at the mess.

“Your scream… damn that noise you made, we all thought death herself must have come upon us. They started fighting who should check on their boss… gave me all the edge I needed.” He shrugged as if killing two gunmen was nothing.

His casual demeanor would have made me laugh under different circumstances. The edge he needed to kill two guys who’d had guns trained on him...

I took his hand and we went back inside.

The living room looked normal… It smelled of blood, but it looked just like it had two hours ago. Two hours ago… when everything had still been good.

I stopped in the middle of the living room. “Can you… can you get me some clothes?”

Negan reluctantly let go of me and went into the bedroom.

I would never be able to sleep in there again. The bed would always remind me of what had happened there. The island, the house didn’t feel safe any longer. I wasn’t safe and I would never feel safe here… or anywhere… ever again. They had fucked up everything.

Wordlessly, I put on the dry underwear Negan gave me. It made me feel less exposed. Negan had put on a dry pair of pants as well.

He handed me a pair of pants and a shirt and only then did I realize how tenderly he carried himself.

Fuck, I was such an idiot! He had been beaten too. “Are you alright?” I asked him and put my clothes to the side. I should have asked him the moment he’d pulled me out of my hiding spot. Instead I had made him carry me around on top of everything else. I wanted to slap myself for how stupid I felt.

He nodded. “I’ve had worse.” He didn’t show any bruises yet, but they would appear soon enough. The skin on his stomach was red where they had punched him. He had washed his face in the lake, but blood was still oozing from his split lip and from a small cut on his upper right arm.

I quickly slipped on the t-shirt he had brought me and ushered him into the kitchen, foregoing pants for the moment.

Treating his injuries was more important than getting dressed. Nursing his wounds gave me something to focus on besides the feeling of being unsafe. I needed that right now.

“I shouldn’t have let this happen to you,” Negan said, gritting his teeth when I put a swab of cotton drenched in disinfectant against the cut on his arm.

I shook my head. That didn’t matter any longer. “Is this from a gunshot?” I said instead.

Negan nodded. “Fuckers each had one fucking bullet in their rifles.”

I put the cotton on the counter and blinked at him. Was he serious?

“One fucking bullet! None of this bullshit had to happen!” he continued, putting a hand over his face. “Saved my ass when I attacked them, but you…”

I felt my hands start to tremble. One bullet each. I looked up at him wordlessly, still holding on to his arm. Four bullets…

“Seriously?” I whispered.

He nodded.

“Fucking shit!” I hissed and angrily kicked at the kitchen cupboard, just to hiss again and pull up my foot as I had hurt my toes.

“Fucking goddamn bullcrap shitsnacks!” I continued spewing profanities, balling my fists and hammering at the counter. One bullet each! They couldn’t be serious!

Negan didn’t move, just silently watched me, waiting for me to get it all out.

“Four fucking bullets!!!” I cried out before I let myself drop down to the floor and buried my face in my hands. Tears streamed down my cheeks and sobs shook my whole body, making it hard to breathe.

Negan joined me on the floor and I rolled over and put my head in his lap, closing my eyes, crying silently as he stroked my arm.

For a while, my crying and sobbing was the only sound in the cottage. A bleat from outside told me Spots was okay. Well, that made one of us.

Bullets had already been scarce back when we’d still lived in the Sanctuary. We should have known…

Suddenly I realized why we had been attacked all those years ago. If I found out those assholes had any friends out there, I would go after them as well.

Fuck.

Things like this, raids, taking people’s stuff, showing them how big and bad he was had been Negan’s daily business years ago.

I slowly sat up, and moved away from him.

This was the man I loved. The man that treated me better than anyone else had treated me ever before. Yet, I knew he had terrorized people for years, killed, maimed, and he had probably enjoyed doing it too.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“You… used to be just like them,” I muttered, looking him straight in the eyes.

He shook his head. “I never did anything just to be cruel. Revenge isn’t my style, you know that, Clara. I did what I had to do to keep my people safe.”

“But...” I swallowed. I didn’t want to start a fight with him but I had to speak my mind now or it would tear us apart.

“I never forced myself on a woman!” he continued defending himself.

I pressed my lips together to stop them from quivering.

“Clara…” he moved towards me but I pulled away before he could touch me.

“I have to deal with this by myself.” I said, laboriously getting to my feet and stepping further away from him. Everything ached. I was sore in so many places, it would be quicker listing the places I wasn’t.

“You don’t have to,” Negan said, getting up as well, taking a step after me. I shook my head at him and wordlessly went outside.

+++

**A couple of days later**

Negan had dealt with the bodies and burned them somewhere behind the house. Our bedroom was mostly blood free again and we left the window open day and night to get the smell out. The mattress was outside, drying after Negan had washed it.

The scratch marks on my arm seemed to grow in size and number of their own accord and started appearing even on my legs as well. I had no memory of giving them to myself. They weren’t there one moment and the next they just were.

I sat on the porch swing, hugging myself, watching the sunset when Negan found me. It had been a long day, full of anxiety and flashbacks and I was more tired than I had any right to be.

The swing creaked when Negan sat down next to me and we swung a little faster for a moment.

I moved away from him, knowing full well it hurt him when I acted like that, but I couldn’t help it. I still didn’t know what to think. There were simply too many things to think over. I loved Negan, but I had to get used to the idea he had been acting like those men, even though he said he hadn’t.

I had taken to sleeping on the sofa. Negan slept on the floor on the other end of the living room or outside on the porch, depending on the weather. I couldn’t bear the thought of him touching me.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, hugging myself tighter.

Negan huffed. He looked tired, sad and I knew it was my fault. He needed me as much as I needed him, but I just… couldn’t.

Heart heavy, I got up and moved towards the garden. I had left my basket and it was getting dark.

When I came back around the edge of the cottage, Negan was still sitting on the swing, bent forward, face buried in his hands.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn’t want to see him like that. Especially not when I knew I was the one at fault for him feeling like this.

His body shook and I realized he was crying.

In all the years we had been together I had never seen him cry. Not when he’d been injured, not when we’d gone hungry for days, not when I’d lost our baby. But now he had lost me.

No. Thinking that didn’t feel right. He hadn’t lost me. I loved him still; the same amount or even more than ever. I’d just stopped showing him I did.

This was wrong.

I sped up my steps and put my basket next to the door, watching him.

I should go to him, comfort him.

I took a step and stopped again.

I couldn’t.

Swallowing down my tears, I turned around, picked up my basket and went inside.

+++

**A couple of weeks later**

Summer had turned into fall and it started raining more and more frequently. I had fixed the roof and it seemed to hold. There was no water dripping anywhere it shouldn’t.

Negan had gone back to sleeping in the bedroom.

I still stayed on the sofa, still unable to let Negan touch me.

I functioned, I did my chores, but I had shut off all my emotions.

I knew I had.

The cold I felt was worse than being sad, but I didn’t know how to go back to feeling again without falling apart all the way.

I had stopped scratching myself and moved on to cutting. I didn’t let Negan close enough to see the cuts on my arms and legs and made sure to clean the knives I used before and after.

The pain was the only thing I could allow myself to feel. It wasn’t a good feeling exactly, but it was something.

Negan was outside, cleaning a fish he had caught.

I had laid the fire in the oven and stood before it, warming myself. My glance fell on the knife block on the counter. Negan had the sharpest of our knives outside, but the others would do just as well.

I took one at random and held it against the hot stovetop for a minute or two to burn off any bacteria that might sit on it.

My hand shook as I rolled up my sleeve and looked for a free spot.

And then I froze as I felt someone loom over me.

I slowly turned around and found Negan standing there, watching me, looking from my arm to my face.

“You lied,” he said, grabbing my wrist. “You said you stopped hurting yourself.” He took the knife from me and put it out of my reach. He looked angry, hurt, worried.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, trying to step away from him.

He held on to me, careful, gentle, but firm. “I won’t let you run away again, Clara!” he said. “Talk to me!”

I looked at the floor.

“You know how much it hurts to see you like that?”

I sniffled. Of course I knew my behavior hurt him. I was ill, not stupid, but hell if I knew how to get better again all by myself.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, looking up at him for just a second before I tried stepping away from him again. His grip tightened.

“I let you walk away from me long enough,” he said, pushing me backwards, cornering me between him and the kitchen counter. Now that I had nowhere to go, he let go of my wrist and put his hands on the counter left and right of me. “Talk to me! How can we fix this?”

“I don’t know!” I muttered, looking up at him again, almost shyly.

“Then you’ll have to find out.”

“Believe me, I’d love to!” What did he think I was doing all day long? Did he think I enjoyed feeling like this? Did he think I liked sleeping on the sofa, all alone, cold, uncomfortable, knowing full well he was practically within arms’ reach and still unable to go to him?

“Let me help you!”

“Okay! Help me then, fix me!” I stared at him, defiantly, crossing my arms before my chest.

Our gazes met for the first time in such a long time… I had forgotten how brown his eyes were, how I could lose myself in his gaze, how his eyebrows tilted down at the sides when he was happy…

His arms went around me and I let him.

Now this couldn’t be all it would have taken, right? Simply looking him in the eyes? Impossible! It couldn’t be that simple!

Yet, I couldn’t help but feel drawn to him. My hand moved up to cradle his cheek. I had wanted to do that for so long.

He felt so good, I wanted to cry out with the sensation. His skin against mine… it felt so right!

Negan lifted me up to sit on the kitchen counter in the same moment as I dove forward to kiss him, putting my arms around his shoulders, holding him.

He was so warm. His scent was intoxicating. His taste… I had forgotten how good kissing him made me feel. How could I have forgotten this?

“I miss you…” I whispered.

“I miss you too.”

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him close. For whatever reason, a whimper made its way from my mouth.

“You okay?” he said.

“I miss you so much.” I gave him another tight squeeze and blinked back tears.

“I’m right here.” He chuckled with my squeezing him ever tighter. “I promise I won’t run away.”

“I know,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I did!”

“Yea, me too…” He picked me up and carried me to the sofa.

We sat down and I climbed on his lap, never letting go of him, not for a second. Holding him now, after such a long time, felt like the water I had been thirsting for on my way through the desert.

I had missed him so much!

“Why are you crying?” He wiped away a tear with a gentle thumb.

“Because… I don’t know… I just feel so stupid now…”

He shook his head. “Not stupid! Hurt, scared, traumatized, yes, but never stupid.” He pet my face and hair as he spoke.

I whimpered and more tears started flowing. “I’m so sorry…”

He pulled me close, pressing his lips to my forehead and remaining just there. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” His words were hot against my skin.

“Then why does it feel like I did?”

“Hell if I know. Important thing is: you didn’t!”

I sighed.

“You’re perfect. You just deal with stuff in… unconventional ways sometimes. Doesn’t make you any less perfect!”

I sighed again but found I was able to stop crying, even though sobs continued to shake me occasionally. “I love you so much!”

“I love you too,” Negan said.

“Can you hold me tight?” I whispered.

Negan gave a little snort of laughter before he answered. “Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up warm, comfortable and, most unusual of all: well rested. Negan’s arms were around me and I was squeezed between him and the backrest of the sofa, one of the blankets from the bedroom pulled over us.   
> Negan’s breath was warm and even against the back of my neck.   
> It was broad daylight outside.   
> How long had we slept? We had made up before dinner yesterday evening.   
> My stomach seemed to have waited for that thought and rumbled loudly. I moved, trying to free myself from Negan’s grasp without waking him, but couldn’t.   
> His breathing changed the moment he woke, as it always did. From relaxed and asleep to awake and alert in a second.   
> He cleared his throat and lifted his hand to rub his face.   
> “Good morning,” I whispered, turning my head so I could see him out of the corner of my eye.   
> He pulled his second arm out from under me and lifted himself up on one elbow to kiss my cheek. “Good morning.”  
> I grinned. He had kissed me. I had slept in his arms. We were good again. The moment I had enough space I sat up and pulled him against me, kissing him for real.   
> “I missed this so so much!” I whispered, letting my fingers brush through his hair.   
> “Believe me, you didn’t miss it half as much as I did. That wouldn’t be physically possible.”  
> “I love you.”  
> “I love you too.”


End file.
